Close view of metallic silver, gold and turquoise geometric tattoos on fingers and a bird motif on a thigh, styled with rings.

Metallic geometric tattoos on hands and thigh

Geometric · Hand · Colour · Photo

Two hands rest on a bare thigh, with diamond and chevron patterns in silver and gold on the fingers and a stylised bird with a turquoise centre on the leg. The linework is bold and symmetrical, with flat metallic fills and small turquoise accents. The warm, sandy-toned background keeps the focus on the metallic designs against the skin.

Geometric Hand Thigh Diamond Chevron Bird Hand Finger Ring

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The stamps were already laid out on the oilcloth when Ruth came down, eleven of them in a row like cutlery waiting for a feast. Her uncle had filed each one from a steel blank by lamplight, and he had cut the diamonds first because diamonds were forgiving. The bird was not forgiving. Mrs Okafor had asked for it with its wings flung wide and a turquoise chip set in its breast, and for three nights the old man had sent the drawings back crumpled, muttering that birds should be left to the sky.

Keep reading

Ruth took the job on the fourth morning, when the sun was low enough to make the tin sheets glow. She pressed the bird into a strip of silver and it came out lopsided, one wing longer than the other. She tried again and again, until the chevrons along its edges lined up like the markers on the caravan road, the ones that told drivers where the salt was sweet and where the wells had dried. On the tenth try the bird sat square and proud, and she rubbed gold leaf into its grooves with the heel of her thumb.

Mrs Okafor came for the band that afternoon, though the dust had risen so thick that the lamp outside had gone the colour of weak tea. She turned the ring in the light and said nothing for so long that Ruth began to fold the cloth. Then the woman laughed, low and surprised, and said the bird had come straight out of her mother's kitchen tin, the one she had carried across the flats forty years before. Ruth had not known the design was old. She had only known it was hard to make.

That evening she scratched her own initials under the bird's tail, small enough that no one would find them unless they went looking. Out on the salt the wind would take the silver in a season, and the gold after that. Ruth did not mind. She had made it to be carried, and carried it would be.